


Fracture

by Claire



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-31
Updated: 2009-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 23:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not Claudia Brown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fracture

There's still steam in the air as Jenny swipes a hand across the mirror, the movement causing drops of water to fall onto the sink and splash over the ceramic.

The reflection that looks back at her is distorted, not her, and Jenny not sure if it's entirely to do with the trails running down the glass, the tiny rivers of condensation the effect of too hot a shower in too small a bathroom.

She can still hear Cutter's voice in the back of her head, still hear the tiny hesitation that happens every time he calls her by name. The tiny hesitation that shouts to everyone around them that he still believes that Jenny Lewis shouldn't exist, that she's in the place of the woman he feels _should_ be there. It's hard to explain to everyone looking at her that sometimes Nick believes it so much he almost has Jenny doubting her own existence, hard to explain that it's difficult to be confronted by someone who believes _just that badly_ that you're not you, and the only reason you exist at all is because something's wrong with the world.

Jenny Lewis: product of a mistake. And it's almost like she's back listening to her parents argue just before the divorce.

She's still staring at herself when a hand cups her hip, a face that's so much like hers but isn't appearing next to her in the mirror.

"Come to bed, Jenny," Claudia murmurs, voice warm and honey soft in Jenny's ear.

She takes the hand that's offered, Claudia's fingers curling around hers and tugging her out of the bathroom.

She lets herself be led into the bedroom, gentle guiding and a light laugh as hands are on her shoulders, pushing her down onto the clean sheets. Because she's not Claudia Brown, _can't_ be Claudia Brown. Not when Claudia's here, fingers deftly undoing the belt of Jenny's robe and sliding it open.

"Jenny--"

Her name is a murmur as Claudia leans down, lips pressing gently against Jenny's stomach, once, twice as Claudia moves up Jenny's body, path mapped by a trail of kisses.

"Please--" Because even though she always tells herself she's not going to beg, she does it anyway. Begs because her skin is too tight and too warm and Claudia's touch isn't enough, not yet.

A hand cups one of her breasts as teeth graze across her nipple, sharp and soothing at the same time.

"Please--" She doesn't care that she's repeating herself, is more than sure this won't be the last time that word passes her lips tonight.

She arches into Claudia's touch, light laughter washing over her as Claudia pulls back.

"Patience, Jenny--" Claudia's fingers skim over her stomach, brushing over the fine down on Jenny's skin that finally gives way to coarser hair. "It's a virtue, you know."

But Jenny doesn't want patience, doesn't care about virtue, just wants Claudia's hands on her. She reaches out, fingers grasping nothing but air until Claudia's hand finds hers. Claudia laughs again as Jenny moves both their hands to between her legs, moves their hands to where Jenny needs them.

"What do you want, Jenny?" Claudia's voice is light, teasing, as her fingers run over Jenny's flesh, wet and slick, before finally, _finally_ her fingers push inside.

"Yes--" Jenny hisses, spreading her legs wider as her hips arch off the bed, following Claudia's fingers as they move in and out of her.

"Is this what you want, Jenny?" Claudia asks, her fingers pressing deeper, opening Jenny up further. "To be _fucked_? To have my fingers in your cunt?"

But Jenny shakes her head; not because she doesn't want it, because she _does_ , but because those words shouldn't be coming from Claudia. Because Claudia's not harsh and crude, not if Nick fell in love with her. Not if the pedestal he has her on is anywhere close to being the truth.

"But I think you do, Jenny," Claudia continues, the fingers of her free hand brushing over Jenny's cheek and stilling her shaking head. "I think you want it so badly you'll beg for it."

"Please--" Because Jenny _is_ willing to beg, if only to stop herself breaking out of her own skin.

Jenny doesn't know if it's the word or the tone that Claudia hears, doesn't care as Claudia presses her thumb to Jenny's clit, rubbing hard circles as her fingers move in Jenny's body. And Jenny feels herself coming apart, fractured and sharp; a rough circle of light and reflection sitting in her stomach and radiating through her. But it's just outside of her reach, flickering on the edge of her skin until Claudia _pushes_ , thumb flicking against her. Jenny's body tightens, breaking open as she comes around Claudia's fingers, orange and white and yellow dancing brightly behind her eyes as her breath starts to calm.

Jenny keeps her eyes closed as the bed moves, the sound of running water reaching her moments later. She only opens them again when she hears someone else in the room, clothes rustling slightly as they're pulled on.

"It's on the dresser," she says, hand waving slightly towards the selection of notes under a nearly full bottle of perfume that she hasn't yet got around to replacing; under a nearly full bottle of perfume that she hasn't used since Nick told her it suited her, and she'd heard the words _Because Claudia used to wear it_ , even if he hadn't spoken them.

She's not Claudia Brown. It's the only thought running through Jenny's head as the other woman picks the money up and tucks it into her purse.

She's not Claudia Brown. Sure and absolute as the soft _Same time next week?_ is asked and agreed to.

She's not Claudia Brown. Jenny doesn't bother moving as she's left alone, sheets under her damp with sweat and the door to the bedroom left open as the fading click of heels on laminate and then the echoing _click_ of the front door heralds no one in the flat but her.

She's not Claudia Brown. Jenny's eyes close as her hand drifts down over her stomach, fingers running through hair sticky with fluid.

She's not Claudia Brown. Not even when Nick looks at her, eyes bright for just a moment before he remembers that the woman he loves doesn't exist and all he has is a photo of someone that's Jenny but _not_. Claudia Brown, with her wide smile and her flat hair and her clothes that Jenny wouldn't be seen dead in.

She's not Claudia Brown. She's not. Except in all the ways that she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she really is.


End file.
